


Don't You Hear Me Howling, Babe?

by orphan_account



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguously Happy Ending, Demon Summoning, Light Dash of Smut, M/M, Mild Body Horror (Demon Shifting), Vaguely Crack Fic-y
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 09:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18192623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures — or in this case, demon intervention. Michael doesn't realize what he's gotten himself into until there's a bona-fide demon standing right in front of him. Of course, that's only half of the problem. The crux of the issue lays in the fact that it's taken the form of his deepest desire: Alex.





	Don't You Hear Me Howling, Babe?

**Author's Note:**

> Tyler Blackburn's guest appearance on Charmed has me feelin' some type of way and Malex already has my emotions all over the place this week. Guess that means I flew off the deep-end. Title for this fic comes from _It Will Come Back_ by Hozier, which is a truly haunting but very lovely song. Please go give it a listen.

If Michael was even the tiniest bit religious, he might have second thoughts about summoning a demon from the depths of Hell. But as it stands, he doesn't believe in Hell — or Heaven, for that matter. If they do exist, he's under the assumption that being an alien from another planet crosses him off both lists. Neither afterlife will readily accept someone that does not truly belong to this world. 

Or so Michael tells himself as he readies a summoning circle, laying out the necessary offerings. If he doesn't have to worry about appeasing a god he doesn't believe in or triggering a devil he doesn't fear, there's no harm in testing his luck. Nothing will come of this so-called demonic intervention, but if there's a chance he could get help with his plans for a new ship...well, it'll be worth the potential damnation. Demons can't feast on his soul if he's not even on the planet, right? There's loopholes to everything and boy, oh boy, is Michael ready to use them.

His bunker seems like the best place to engage in the summoning of demonic entities. Unless Liz suddenly appears and demands to be let in, no one will be around to witness his inevitable failure. Desperate times call for desperate measures, though, so he doesn't hesitate to clear a space on his table for a makeshift pentagram. Candles illuminate the five points of the star and Michael's smeared a bit of his blood on each corner, just as the instructions state. All he needs to do is repeat the incantation he found on the dark web, which has been awfully helpful as of late. If this has some semblance of success, he'll have to give credit where it's due.

Except he never gets the chance to recite the chant. With nothing more than a blink, Michael finds himself face-to-face with a woman who looks an awful lot like his last hook-up. She's got legs for days, an hourglass figure, and the brightest, bluest eyes he's ever seen. Dressed in nothing more than a little black dress, he can't be blamed for admiring the view. At first, he's enraptured by her appearance; too mystified to question where she came from.

"The spell isn't necessary," she says, sliding one leg over the other. "Common misconception, hun." 

Then she flashes him a sinister smile — all jagged, razor-edged teeth that this woman should most definitely _not_ possess — and he stumbles back in shock. Nearly tripping over his own two feet, Michael tries to put some distance between them, knocking over boxes and pushing a cabinet between them. Anything to keep the creature at bay.

In response, the woman throws her head back and lets out a deep, guttural cackle. The sound is unlike anything Michael's ever heard; she sounds more feral than civilized, more like an untamed beast than a harmless human. Her vile laughter has the hairs on the back of his neck standing up and goosebumps spreading across his arms. That's when it finally hits him: this is no human. This is the very demon he was trying to summon. 

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I won't bite unless you ask me to," the demon taunts, sliding down off the table. Its heels click against the laminated flooring as it stalks toward Michael, eyeing him as if he's its next meal. For all he knows, he could very well be. "Oh, come on. You're the one who wanted me here."

"This isn't happening," he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm drunk or having a seriously fucked up nightmare or—"

Against his will, Michael's eyes fly open and he's forced to meet the demon's gaze. It's no more than a foot away now; close enough to reach out and touch him if it so pleased. Though it still looks like a woman, Michael's painstakingly aware that this is nothing but a cruel ruse. Michael mentally convinces himself that it'll take more than a pretty face to catch him off guard. That once it's done putting on a show, he can gather the will-power to send it back to whichever circle of Hell it came from. 

"Oh, does this form not appeal to you?" The demon murmurs, cocking its head to the side. "I can fix that."

For a solid minute, it simply stands before him, never once breaking their stare or allowing Michael to glance away. He feels as if its poking around his mind, sifting through every memories he holds dear and scouring the deepest trenches of his psyche. He wants to open his mouth and scream, beg, cuss — do _anything_ to convey just how wrong this all this, how desperate he is to be free of this demonic presence. 

"Stop being so dramatic," the demon scoffs. It rolls its eyes and flicks his ear. "Just hang tight and I'll get you exactly what you want."

Before Michael's very eyes, its feminine physique morphs — twisting and contorting and splintering off into an entirely different shape. Bones break with a sickening snap, only to crackle and hiss as they settle into an entirely new position. Skin stretches over dislocated limbs and looks about ready to rip, but the limbs go shuddering back into place and the skin settles with them. No longer are there soft curves and supple flesh, but hardened muscle and sharpness at every edge.

Though the eyes staring down at Michael are still a bright, pristine baby blue, the demon no longer looks to be a woman. No, this time it's taken on the outward appearance of a man. But it's not just _any_ man, because the demon would never make it so easy for Michael to push it away. This is someone Michael knows intimately. Has kissed passionately time and time again. Has made love to more times than he can count on one hand. Hasn't been able to get out of his head for the past decade. 

"Do you like it?" Alex — or rather, Not Alex — gleefully asks. "I had a feeling you would." 

"Holy shit," is all Michael manages to get out before a clawed hand wrap around his throat. It knocks the wind right out of him as the demon pins him back against the wall, sharp teeth bared and dangerously close to his face.

"There's nothing _holy_ about this," Alex sneers. "Keep that word out of you mouth while you're in my presence. Understood?"

"Understood," Michael chokes out, and just like that, the grip on his throat relents. The claws immediately warp into fingers that carefully slide around to the nape of Michael's neck, then dart straight up into his curls and give a firm, deliberate tug. It sends shivers down Michael's spine, and a moan falls from his lips.  

"Good boy," Alex praises, pressing a kiss to the corner of Michael's mouth. "See? I'm not so bad as long as you behave yourself."

It's becoming increasingly difficult to process anything going on because Michael is staring down a version of Alex that's — for a lack of a better word — tantalizing. He might be dressed like he just [walked straight out of a Renaissance Fair](https://66.media.tumblr.com/385085e9451741076f38c8a4711e6739/tumblr_pop00ing9V1tlhd7wo1_540.jpg), but he's definitely pulling it off in spades. Hair that's usually kept meticulously styled appears to be windswept and tussled, effortlessly disheveled in all the right ways. There's the faintest signs of facial hair above his upper lip and straight down his chin, then darting up along a defined jaw on either side. And when he flashes a sly, playful grin rarely seen outside the bedroom, Michael goes weak at the knees. He feels seventeen all over again — flustered, caught off-guard, and turned on by something he never expected to be. 

"Wow, you've got it _bad_ ," Alex chuckles. His free hand comes to rest over Michael's chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart beneath his shirt and his flesh and his bones. "Should've pegged you as the type to love a man in uniform. That's cute. Obnoxiously ironic and, like, painfully predictable, but cute."

Michael's speechless. There's nothing he can say in the moment that the demon doesn't already know, and even if there was, he can't possibly get it out when it looks, sounds, and _feels_ like Alex. He's never been one with words, even less so when it comes to the man he's head over heels for. They've hardly needed words when meaningful glances and passionate kisses and mind-blowing sex does all the talking for them. 

"So," Alex begins, taking a step forward. "What can I do for you, handsome?"

"I need help building a ship," Michael tentatively explains, eyeing the creature warily. "Something tells me we...uh, won't be doing business, though."

"Ah, ah, ah," Alex hums, wagging his finger. "That's not how this works, buddy."

In no time at all, they're chest-to-chest. Michael shuts his eyes for a split second and suddenly Alex is crowding into his personal space, backing him into a corner of the bunker that's engulfed in shadows. Its hands easily slide into Michael's back pockets as he nudges him along, causing the latter's breath to hitch. Michael's voice is still lodged in his throat, words of regret resting on the top of his tongue.

When he feels Alex groping him through his jeans, he finally manages to exclaim, "I changed my mind, okay?!"

He half expects the demon to pull away and vanish into thin air. After all, if he's not looking to strike a deal, it has no choice but to leave him be. However, it merely grins — the same way Alex does when they're caught in the throes of passion — and laughs right in his face. 

"You can't just drag me out of Hell and take back the invitation," Alex scolds, pressing his body flush against Michael's. "Besides..."

The pale hues that have kept Michael so enraptured suddenly shift. No longer are they as pristine as ocean waves. Instead, they're tinted the same crimson shade as the blood running through Michael's veins, but Michael doesn't mind. It's easy to ignore them when Alex's lips are dangerously close to his own. It's temptation at its finest. 

"I can help you with that little ship of yours, but there's so much more you want, isn't there?" Alex murmurs, pressing his forehead against Michael's. "Why won't you tell me what you need, Michael?"

His name melts right off Alex's tongue, sounding so sickeningly sweet that it's actually a little bit endearing. The Alex he knows is always calling him by his last name; never his first. But right here, right now? Hearing 'Michael' is music to his ears. It probably doesn't help that Alex is pressing up against him, gently settling his knee between Michael's thighs and rubbing up against him. Michael swears his head spinning and his senses are suddenly heightened. 

"I thought you loved me," this Alex wistfully sighs, toying with a few strands of Michael's hair. "What happened to telling all your dirty little secrets to the people you love? Isn't that what you and Isobel agreed on? You can tell me anything, babe."

When their lips brush together ever so lightly, Michael feels a shock ripple down his spine. The barely-there skim is just enough to pull him right back in, and it helps that this demon is a spitting image of Alex. These are the very lips he yearns to capture in endless kisses. This is the body he wants nothing more than to be under, to feel beneath his hands and grip and fondle and caress. The real Alex may be out of reach, but this Alex is practically his for the taking. 

"This is too easy," Alex sighs, pulling back when Michael leans in for a kiss. "You're worse than I thought. Does this Alex guy know how you feel?"

Just like that, the demon leaves Michael to his own devices and appears on the other side of the bunker. While Michael gathers his bearings, it studies the chunks of alien stone that Michael's collected thus far. Its fingers slide across the glowing tablet of hieroglyphics, but it simply clicks its tongue in disapproval and pulls its hand back. 

"Stop fucking with my head!" Michael snaps. Without thinking, he sends a piece of shrapnel flying right toward the demon, but it passes through its body with surprising ease. It lodges into one of the metal beams keeping the whole bunker up and the demon snickers. 

"That's my job," Alex teases, rolling its eyes in the process. "I'm supposed to fuck around in there, but there's a different type of fucking we could do if you're desperate. I aim to please, after all. It'll only cost a piece of your soul."

"A piece?" Michael repeats, raising his eyebrows. "Why not the whole thing?"

The demon gives him a knowing look, similar to the very one Alex flashes Michael more often than not. "Only a fraction of you is human, genius. Or did you forget the part where you're an alien stranded on the wrong damn planet?

"I don't have _total_ jurisdiction over your kind," Alex continues, "but part of your soul is tied to this giant rock we call Earth. The part of you that would jump in front of a moving train for the people you love? That's got my name written all over it." 

"Can you fix my ship or not?" Michael questions, opting to ignore the rest of the demon's spiel. 

Without another word, Alex waves a hand across the broken pieces of stone. It suddenly appears completely refurbished without a single piece out of place, rendering Michael breathless and delighted. The hieroglyphics emit a bright, ethereal glow that covers every last inch of the bunker in its light. Just as quickly as it was fixed, however, it appears broken and dismantled once more. What took the demon mere seconds to perfect has taken _years_ for Michael to achieve, and he's not even close to being done yet.

"That should answer your question," Alex proclaims, "but my help doesn't come for free. Like I said, I'll need part of your soul. Once you kick the bucket, that part would be mine to own and do with as I please."

"Which means...?" Michael trails off, waiting for the demon to elaborate. 

It doesn't. Cocking its head, it simply shrugs. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

Michael opens his mouth to demand an explanation, but the demon's in his personal space yet again. He's left speechless — breathless, even — as its eyes rapidly switch from azure to crimson to the honey-hazel hue Michael loves so dearly. Alex's features soften and his smile seems genuine, as if this truly is Alex standing before him. His palms are oh-so gentle when they reach up to cup Michael's cheeks, but the kiss that follows is everything but. It's rough, almost desperate, and Michael's groan is quickly swallowed up by Alex's lips. 

"Your heart yearns for him," Alex whispers. Michael doesn't even notice that his eyes have shifted back to blue, his own eyes fluttering shut. "Let me ease that burden."

"Okay," Michael gasps, allowing Alex to push his head back against the wall. "Yeah, that's — fuck, okay."

Michael tips his head as far as it can go, all while Alex's mouth moves down to his jawline. He leaves a trail of kisses as he goes and digs his nails into Michael's waist, ensuring Alex is the one in control of the situation. Rough lips travel back up his neck and soon capture his own in yet another passionate kiss. It's electrifying and mind-blowing and every other heart-stopping emotion that's typical for the two of them. Alex's fingers tighten in Michael's curls, tugging until Michael swears there are stars blurring his vision.

It's unbearably warm now as their bodies slot together, as if the bunker isn't already humid enough without another body pushing up against Michael's. His lungs burn, chest aches, and legs grow heavy as Alex's arms hook beneath his thighs, hoisting him up against the wall. Michael has no choice but to wrap them around Alex's waist, which gives Alex the perfect leverage to grind up into Michael and sink his fingers into the back of his thighs. Michael can feel Alex's cock straining against his slacks and figures Alex can feel his own through his worn-down jeans, but the jolt of pleasure that courses through him is short-lived. 

All too quickly, the presence is gone. No longer is Michael being held up by Alex's strong arms. Instead, he comes crashing back down to the ground. As he curses under his breath, the demon cackles from its perch on the table. 

"I'm going to go easy on you," it announces, sounding far too benevolent for Michael's liking. Nothing good in life comes for free, least of all the help of a demon. "I'll bring your little boyfriend over here so you two can kiss and make up. Consider it a free trial period. And the best part? I don't need your credit card details!"

Processing its suggestion in full, Michael scowls. "I don't want you influencing Alex. I don't need some shitty demon forcing him to love me."

Alex rolls his eyes in response and says, "Don't be such a drama queen. His feelings are going to be genuine. He'll just finally have the balls to own up to them. Why are you even questioning this? I'm literally handing you your man on a silver platter."

"Excuse the fuck out of me if I want him on my own terms," Michael grits out through clenched teeth. 

"Take the handout," Alex hisses. He points a finger accusingly at Michael. "It's the one and only olive branch I'm giving you. Remember — you called me, not the other way around. You asked for this!"

The demon's right and they both know it. Michael can only scowl and turn away from the creature, unable to stomach the sight any longer. It's still taking on Alex's appearance and obviously delighting in Michael's reaction, pleased to rile him up so fervently. 

"Lover Boy should be here in ten minutes," it proudly declares. It proceeds to stomp on one of the flickering candles, snuffing out its light and smearing melted wax across a pile of paperwork. "Pull yourself together by then."

"Hey, watch it!" Michael shouts, but it continues prancing around from point to point and leaves a mess in its wake.

"If you're not careful," it chuckles, "he'll think you were having fun down here with someone else. We can't have that, can we?"

One by one, it gets through four different corners of the pentagram Michael's set up. Even swipes the droplets of blood beneath its bare feet, snickering all the while. It's carefully traipsing across the table with an air of grace and poise that Michael would otherwise find hypnotic, given the fact it still looks like Alex. But he's long since fallen out of lust with this disguise and wants it gone. Wants this damn thing out of his life for good. 

"I'll be back in a couple days. Just to see if you still want my help," it explains, clearly not ready to let Michael off the hook. "If you think you won't, you will. If you don't, I'll make sure you do. At least I'm nice enough to pretend your opinion matters. Most demons wouldn't even give you the appearance of choice."

"I don't want you coming back," Michael commands, though it sounds more like a plea. "I'm not interested in any of this bullshit. Got it?"

The demon doesn’t answer right away. Just smiles at the request, finds humor in it, and Michael's blood runs cold.

"You'll need me again," it eventually reassures. "Until you do, I'll be here. Watching. Waiting. Anticipating." 

When it tramples out the final candle, a shiver works its way through Michael's body. By the time it runs its course, the demon is gone. 

Alex arrives ten minutes later, right on the dot. By then, Michael's cleaned himself up and gotten his bunker tucked away. He ignores the mounting anxiety that follows Alex's arrival — pushes aside all thoughts of the demon, while he's at it — and settles in for a long, arduous talk.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

After they've hashed out the hurdles of their relationship, Alex invites Michael back to his cabin. Michael doesn't hesitate to accept the offer and hop into Alex's car, insisting they take the SUV over Michael's beat-up truck. He'd rather not be by himself while there's a demon waiting to lure him into its clutches. Hopefully Alex's presence will keep the unholy creature at bay, if only for a night.

Leave it to Alex to pick up on Michael's paranoia, though. They're curled up together in bed when Alex suddenly asks, "Are you sure you're okay?"

He brushes some of Michael's curls aside and presses his palm against Michael's forehead, but there's no sign of a fever.

"Is this a 'too much too soon' kind of deal?" Alex wonders aloud. "I can always pull out the blow-up mattress if you—"

"I'm fine," Michael insists. He wraps his arms around Alex's waist and rests his head on his chest, pressing a few kisses against Alex's bare skin for good measure. "Trust me when I say there's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here, right now, with you."

When he cranes his head up to get a good look at Alex, he can tell Alex is than convinced. Though Michael wants nothing more than to clue Alex in on his newfound trouble, he knows it's best to leave Alex out of this. The last thing Michael needs is that demon getting inside Alex's head, too.

"I love you," Michael murmurs, sliding up to capture Alex's lips in a searing kiss. 

Alex sighs into it, left blissfully clueless. "Love you too."

It comes as no surprise to Michael that Alex returns the kiss with even more gusto, going as far as sliding his tongue into Michael's mouth and carding his fingers through his hair. Pretty soon, he's got Michael pinned beneath him and Michael hooks his legs around Alex's hips, keenly aware of  _exactly_ where this is headed. As Michael throws his head back, Alex buries his face in the crook of Michael's neck and slips right into him, picking up where they'd left off just an hour ago. 

Outside, a wolf pack begins to howl. They're so distant that Michael doesn't pay them much mind, but he soon he hears something making noise among their ranks. It's a beast in its own right, but far more powerful than the wolves it deafens. The howling laughter that rises up above the pack sends a chill through his body. Settles in his bones and makes him stiffen beneath Alex, who is none the wiser to what Michael is hearing. 

Somewhere far too close for comfort, the demon resides.

It watches.

It waits.

It anticipates. 

And soon enough, it will strike again. 


End file.
